


sing a song of sixpence that goes 'burn the witch'

by The_Doom_Dahlia



Category: The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals - Team StarKid
Genre: F/M, I have a lot of feelings, Murder-Suicide, Radiohead, a lot of headcanons about people we never even see
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-30 02:33:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17820152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Doom_Dahlia/pseuds/The_Doom_Dahlia
Summary: apotheosis has come.title from 'burn the witch' by radiohead





	sing a song of sixpence that goes 'burn the witch'

**Author's Note:**

> welcome to what will probably be the only piece of dan and donna content you will ever see

It had all been so simple when she’d woken up that day. Some weird meteor had crashed in the middle of the thunderstorm the night before, something blue and strange, and her and Dan were supposed to report on it. She hadn’t given much of a shit, but Dan was into it and she was a wife who supported her husband’s weird interests. She even put up with his love for Radiohead, insufferable as they were.

Fuck if she didn’t prefer that pretentious shit to this.

She checked her switchblade again, thanking the Girl Scouts once more for giving her it when she was younger. It wasn’t as sharp as it used to be. Neither was she. But they had endured so much - college, coming out as bi, the goddamn traffic off the island. They could endure this. At least she thought they could.

But then they’d gotten Dan.

He’d collapsed at their anchor desk, drooling blue and writhing. She’d thought it was a seizure, maybe he’d gotten peanut dust or something in his coffee. But then he’d risen and started singing. 

The thing about Dan was this: they’d met in some bullshit acapella class in college but neither of them could sing for shit. Especially not him. He’d always sounded like Cookie Monster chewing gravel. But when he’d gotten up, eyes ringed in blue instead of the brown she was used to, and begun to sing it had been in perfect pitch. Then he’d gone for their camera man and she’d fled in a spray of crimson and viscera.

Now there she was, locked in the backroom with only a knife and the facts in front of her: Dan was apeshit now. Everyone else was either just like him or dead. Everyone but her. She was fucked. Absolutely fucked. “Goddammit, goddammit, goddammit, I don’t wanna fucking die this way, son of a bitch!” she murmured, pulling at her hair with trembling hands. She could barely breathe.

Then the door opened slowly. Still in that flamingo suit he’d bought one drunken summer night, the same one she’d kept having to adjust that morning because he’d broken his glasses and couldn’t see, stood Dan. “Reports say that the end is near! A local source says that apotheosis is inevitable, Donna! You can’t stop it!” he babbled, still using his on air voice. 

“C’mon Danny, it’s me. Don’t fucking do this.” she told him, voice raw, choked up and shaky. She hauled out the switchblade, opening up the rusty device and letting it slice her finger. Blood dripped onto the concrete floor in a steady movement but she didn’t look at it. “You know I know how to use this.”

“It’s time for Hatchetfield’s Action News team to get deep into the action, Donna.” he told her, grinning insanely. “I’ve already joined the family. Come join us, at five, five-thirty to six, eleven PM, and all the time on our hivemind! We know where you live, Donna.” Suddenly, his voice shifted. “ _We know where you live!_ ” he sang, matching Thom Yorke with a sea of muffled voices echoing him outside their battleground.

Donna breathed in deep and slow, glaring into this stranger’s eyes. Dan was gone. All that was left was a creature using her husband like a puppet. No way in, and no way out. “...okay.” she growled, using the blood from her finger to mark the spot on her throat and thanking the universe for that anatomy class she’d taken. After all, they wouldn't want her if she couldn't sing. “Come and **fucking** get me.”

As they lunged at each other, his teeth sinking into her throat as her own blade sliced his vocal chords to ribbon, she had only one thought in mind.

She was just glad it was him. After all, it was just like a musical to end with lovers dying in each other's arms.


End file.
